


Inhuman

by Flightless_Bird



Series: Stitches [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Desert Bluffs, Drabble, Hint of Angst, Kevin is Inhuman, Misunderstandings, OOC Kevin, Past Abuse, Post-Strex Kevin, Rehabilitation Au, Strexcorp, he just wants to be happy guys, people are mean, references to triptych, stitches series, warning for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightless_Bird/pseuds/Flightless_Bird
Summary: Anger was not an emotion that StrexCorp had let him feel in quite some time.





	Inhuman

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Part two is here for the Stitches series c:   
> It’s a little bit longer than before and directly follows the first part. The rest of the series is entirely unplanned though haha, and might seem a little random, as I’m just writing little drabbles as they come to me.   
> Your feedback is always welcome :3 thanks for reading!

Honestly. This was getting ridiculous.

  
As Kevin stood at the side of a metal detector, waiting for an employee to sift through his suitcase, he silently fumed. All this fuss and searching over a single suitcase. He hadn’t even set off the damn detector.

  
Across from him, a stocky gentleman with a mustache and badge held up a clipboard. “All right, sir,” he began on a sigh, “human, animal, deer, or other?”

  
Kevin blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  
The man huffed as though this was the most difficult part of his job today. “We at Night Vale like to keep detailed records of any new visitors or citizens,” he explained. “So, are you human, animal, deer, or other?”

  
It seemed a bit personal, actually. Kevin crossed his arms over his chest. “Um, other.”

  
“And that is?”

  
“What?”

  
The man swept a tired glance over the other people waiting in line at his station. “Could you please explain what you mean by ‘other,’ sir?”

  
“Oh, uh, Voice,” Kevin answered at once.

  
The man’s pencil waited over the paper, still unmoving. “I’m sorry, did you say you were a voice?” he asked flatly.

  
Kevin nodded.

  
Still, the man wrote nothing down. “…but you don’t work for the radio station anymore.”

  
“No. I don’t. But it’s not a job, its—”

  
“Night Vale already has a voice.”

  
Yes, it did, the lying bastard. Gritting his teeth, Kevin fought the urge to start yelling. “I am aware,” he bit out. “But I’m not describing a job position, I’m telling you what I am, and I’m a Voice.”

  
The man waved a hand vaguely. “What does that mean?”

  
“What do you mean, what does that mean?”

  
“Well, how does being a ‘voice’ make you inhuman?”

  
Exasperated, Kevin spread his arms, drawing attention to his jet-black skin. “Do I look human to you?”

  
“Humans come in many colors.”

  
Unbelievable. “Well, I could shift too, and see everything in my town, and—”

  
The man’s face lit up. “Oh, like Cecil!”

  
Kevin usually hated remembering his Strex training, but they had taught him how to break a neck and he had to admit that could really come in handy right now. “Yes,” he growled. “Like Cecil.”

  
“But you can’t do it anymore?”

  
Kevin dragged a hand over his face, fingers catching on the yellow stitching sealing his second set of eyes and his Sight. “No,” he admitted tiredly, “I can’t.”

  
The man regarded him for a few moments. Then he shrugged and lifted the pencil to his clipboard again. “Eh, I’ll just mark you down as human then. It’s easier for all of us.”

  
Staring at him, Kevin felt like a cold stream of water was trickling down the back of his neck and freezing him in place. He wanted to crawl into a hole. He wanted to scream. He wanted to snap this man’s femur in half and see his blood. Something in him shuddered. “No,” he said, quiet and firm. “You won’t.”

  
The man met his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

  
“You won’t mark me down as human. I’m not human.”

  
“Sir, it’s much simpler if you just—”

  
“No!” Kevin snapped, and this time the man’s pencil paused. Behind them, a woman glanced up warily. Kevin took a steadying breath. “I’m a Voice. I’m inhuman. And anyone else who explained their ‘otherness’ to you would be permitted to be listed as what they are. So you have to enter me in your system as that.”

  
Brow furrowing, the man shifted his feet. “But in order to be considered what you say you are, you must meet certain criteria. According to you, that criteria is, well, what Cecil is. And you aren't.”

  
“That’s bullshit!” The woman behind them jumped a little. Kevin didn’t care. He pointed at the guard, glaring. “You’re making that up!”

  
“Sir, you cannot do the same things that—”

  
“And you think I chose that?!”

  
“Please, calm down, we have other customers…”

  
“Enter me in as what I am!” Kevin practically vibrated with anger, hands balled into fists. To his horror, he could feel the prickling burn of tears glazing over his eyes.

  
The woman in line had edged backward and someone behind her muttered, “damn Strex crazies.”

  
Kevin’s head jerked up, newly ignited rage making him bare his teeth. “What the hell did you say?” he demanded.

  
The guard took a few steps back now and bent his head to speak into a radio. “I’m gonna need backup over here. One of the Strex ones.”

  
Kevin’s gaze jerked back to him and he jabbed a finger at the man. “Don’t you dare call me that,” he snarled.

  
The man paled. “S—sir…”

  
There were more coming. Guards in uniforms jogging from different corners of the room, some with hands on their weapons. All of them approached cautiously, as though surrounding an enraged animal. A tear almost escaped, and Kevin swiped his sleeve frustratedly over his right eye. “I never want to be associated with that company again,” he told the first guard vehemently. “I’d rather die than work for them.”

  
The man simply watched him with wide eyes, as the other guards joined him. One of them paused by him and touched his shoulder. “Mark? What’s up?” she asked.

  
The man, Mark, blew out an exhale and shook his head. “Just a little trouble, is all. You know, one of those new ones Mayor Cardinal brought in.”

  
Kevin wanted to kill him so badly.

  
Another guard hesitantly approached him. “Sir? I’d like to help if I can,” she told him. “Will you tell me your name and what’s wrong over here?”

  
He wanted to sleep. He wanted to break things. He wanted to see red.   
“Kevin,” he managed, voice strangled and still tear-thick. He glanced away, up at the ceiling. “Nothing’s wrong. I just would like to go home.”

  
To his surprise, she smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Kevin. We’ll sort this out and get you into Night Vale soon enough.”

  
And Kevin didn’t bother to correct her.

  
No one could bring his home back anyway.


End file.
